


Just Like This

by Wolfscub



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: D/s, Erotica, F/M, Forced Orgasm, PWP, Sex, dom!Tom, dominant Tom, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfscub/pseuds/Wolfscub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like This

**Author's Note:**

> NSFW!
> 
> Mature Audiences Only, Please!
> 
> Another one written in five seconds when I should have been doing something constructive.
> 
> I envision a working class Tom here - like a mechanic or laborer of some kind, one whose 50 hour work week is very physical, the nose-to-the-grindstone, salt of the Earth type of no-nonsense guy.
> 
> I was going to make it a bit more domestic, but it didn't come out that way.
> 
> Again, excuse the typos/grammar/general lack of editing.

You didn't even hear him come in.

You'd told him several times that if he didn't want to play it straight any longer, he could make it as a cat burglar without trying.

Usually he called to you when he got home, but not this time. No "Hi, honey, I'm home." No "come here so I can inspect you," no "lie back on the dining room table and spread your legs - I've had a taste for you all day."

It was summer- another steamy one without air conditioning because of the tight budget he had you both on so that you could save for a house; the same one you were always getting into trouble for exceeding - and you were doing your housework in as little clothing as you thought you could get by with - a short, thin spaghetti-strapped tank top that ended mid-tummy and your barely there panties - with a pair of shorts near the door to don quickly in case you had to answer it.

Just as you were bent over against the wall, running the edge cleaner of the vacuum over the trim and the edge of the carpet, you felt firm, strong male hands grasp your hips, positioning you the way he wanted you - still bent in half, your back crowded up against the wall, your legs tight to your front and almost fused closed. Luckily, after years of yoga, you were more than flexible enough for that position.

You could feel his enormous, booted feet surrounding your bare ones, but his heels were angled just behind yours so that you couldn't move. In an instant, your panties were dropped to your ankles, your shirt moved down so that it fell over your face, baring your breasts, even though they were partially squashed against your legs.

"Tom, no! What are you doing?" you cried out in exasperation, knowing what was coming next.

The roar of the vac stopped abruptly, and you could hear his zipper descend, and seconds later, the broad head of his cock met lips that you knew - having seen the pictures he'd taken - were much too swollen and prominent - not to mention accessible to him - from this position.

And made entirely too vulnerable to him, but then that was his aim.

It was _always_ his aim - to make you as vulnerable as possible around him.

Hands that had been flailing blindly back towards him, occasionally making contact with his muscular calves were easily captured and held at the small of your back, one of his hands easily making two of yours, so holding them securely there was no strain at all, no matter how furiously you tried to free them.

You were caught. 

Captured.

And soon - sooner than you wanted - you would be taken.

You begin to try to bend your knees, to pull your heels up off the floor - as if you were kind of running in place - but there's nowhere for them to go, and all you achieve is to hear his soft chuckle at the futility of your attempts to thwart him.

Trying to avoid the unavoidable.

Trying to avoid _him_ , and his savage possession of you.

You'd never been successful, but you always try anyway.

And he always - _always_ \- defeated you, soundly, while taking great pleasure in doing so, but loving the way you fought him at least as much. There was little he liked better than physically subduing you, then, as he held you fast and took you in whatever manner he preferred, hearing you crying or screaming or even just whimpering "no" at him, and _making_ it "yes".

"No, don't make me cum - _please_ don't make me cum."

Tom adored it when you begged him not to do that, especially, knowing how much you fought yourself not to want it, not to want what you knew he was going to do to you anyway.

But unless he heard your safeword - which, in three years you had yet to use, despite how he frequently tested your submission to him - you knew nothing with more certainty than that he would do with you exactly as he pleased.

Holding your hip and wrists tightly, he rammed himself inside you to the hilt on a deep, satisfied growl and despite how sharp and fast it was - you felt every bit of him scraping along your sensitive, tender insides and tried to twist and turn away from him automatically, to no avail - you could feel your nipples tighten and your body relaxing - completely against your wishes - to receive him - to receive _more_ of him. You were always wet for him - some times more than others, sometimes less, like this, when you'd had no warning that he'd be coming home.

Still, the both of you knew that, by his third tremendous stroke, he'd be more than slick enough.

Your body knew its master and its tribute to the absolutely perfect way he handled you was never much delayed, to your deep embarrassment.

Each tremendous stab was accompanied by an animalistic groan that you knew began in his balls - the ones you couldn't feel against you like you usually did because he hadn't bothered to do anything but take his cock out to fuck you. But you could also hear the keys that you knew were in his left pocket, and the change in his right jangling with each powerful arch of his hips - and thus that huge cock of his - into you.

You were full of him, feeling even more so than usual because of your position, legs held forcibly closed by his, making your normally very tight pussy clamp even more tightly around him.

He wouldn't last long like this. 

And you never knew whether he'd leave you wanting in the end - whether he'd finish with a bellow of pure pleasure while plunging deep within you, holding you still until the very end, then pat your bottom and pull away, adjusting himself and asking casually where his dinner was.

Or whether he'd replace his cock with several fingers of one hand while the others found your clit and worked it mercilessly - using your own slickness against you - while you railed against it at first, which would quickly descended into begging him not to - not like this.

But that _wasn't_ your choice.

That would never _be_ your choice - not with Tom.

He would drive you to it, holding you still for it, barely allowing you to move as those knowing fingers stroked over you unerringly, in just the way he knew would bring you to completion the fastest, never easing up, never even pausing as he fucked you with one hand and frigged you furiously with the other, deliberately crowding himself so tightly around you that when you came, you had to do so pretty much without moving at all, all of that pent up energy and ecstasy causing you to stand there and shudder your way through it, the intensity of your orgasms played out through the massive contractions of your clit and your cunt - and in the piercing screams you could not dampen or control in any way.

You had no control over yourself, even when you wanted to.

Even when you needed to.

You had long since ceded that right to him.

And this was the price you paid.

The price he exacted from you each time - whether he brought you off or not.

Whether it was hours or days or weeks or months between climaxes, being constantly teased and almost constantly fucked.

And you would pay that price - again and again and again.

You would pay double or triple the expected amount.

With no reservations whatsoever,

To be his.

Just. Like. This.


End file.
